I dream in colors not yet named,
Where stardust scripts the skies unclaimed,
A whisper calls from far ahead—
A voice not heard, but felt instead.
Aspiration rides the morning sun,
A battle fought, a race not run,
But dared within the quiet soul,
Where fragments form a burning whole.
Intuition, like a secret tide,
Moves silent under thought and pride,
It guides the hand, it turns the gaze,
Through doubt’s dark woods and unseen maze.
The future waits—not fixed, but free,
A canvas hung in mystery,
Each breath, a stroke; each choice, a flame
That lights the stars in our own name.
So let us rise, and trust the skies,
Where dreams and daring symphonize—
Not bound by what the past has shown,
But by the truths we’ve always known.
The Enlightenment Project 
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